Definitions
by TheDevilYouDon't
Summary: Like how she wishes that Harry would be the one kissing her instead of his redheaded best friend. H/Hr. Mentions of R/Hr. Post-DH.


**Disclaimer: I gain nothing from doing this. Other than reviews from awesome people and a sick sort of pleasure towards myself—as well as the occasional disbelief that, after all this time, _this _is still my hobby. These characters do not belong to me. I'm just playing with them for a bit. Cross my heart.**

**A/N: This starts about three years after _Deathly Hallows _and revolves around Hermione. Mentions of R/Hr, but not many. There are certainly more H/Hr moments. I promise. **

**I always thought Hermione would be the kind of person to spit out the exact definitions of words at a moments notice. So I gave her this. I hope you enjoy it.**

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_Definitions_

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**Lonely.**

_(**adjective**, lone-li-er, lone-li-est) 1. Affected with, characterized by or causing a depressing feeling of being alone; lonesome. 2. Destitute of sympathetic or friendly companionship, intercourse, support, etc.: a lonely exile._

She can hear the rattle of pipes in the walls and she sighs and stares at the ceiling, wondering why she even moved into such a run-down flat. The street outside is noisy and she lies on one side of her bed, trying her best to sleep, even though she doubts she'll be able to.

Her left arm spreads across the bed, skin pressed into her cold, clean sheets. She wonders what it would be like to have another person sleeping in the bed beside her right then, warming up the sheets and her heart simultaneously.

Some nights, she thinks about it and, in the morning, she pretends that she's dating someone that isn't Ron

(she certainly never imagines it's Harry)

and that they're already at work by the time she gets up. She imagines that she's lived all twenty years of her life on Earth without being in a life or death situation and that she doesn't know how to kill anyone and that she's never lost anyone she loves.

Other mornings, she wakes up to a phone call and it's Harry, asking if she'd mind coming over. She comments that, no, she wouldn't mind, trying to sound calm, even though she'd rather be anywhere but her empty flat. She says that she'll be over soon and pretends that he's asking because he misses her.

Then she thinks about Ron, the person she's supposed to be in love with—the one that thinks she is—and feels guilty.

**Vanish.**

_**Verb (used without object) **1. To disappear from sight, especially quickly; become invisible. 2. To go away, especially furtively or mysteriously; disappear by quick departure._

Sometimes she wonders if, were she to suddenly disappear, would anyone notice. And, if they did, how long would it take.

The thought makes her panic and her breath catches in her throat. It's not as if she's helpless _(1. unable to help oneself; weak or dependent. 2. deprived of strength or power)_, but there are some things that are beyond her control. Some things she won't be able to stop.

She starts learning every defensive spell she can and times herself on how long it takes her to pull her wand from her pocket.

Maybe she's overreacting, but her best friend is the Chosen One. He-Who-Defeated-the-Dark-Lord. And she'd been along for the ride. He obviously knows how to fight. So she plans to prove that she can take care of herself.

**Courage.**

_**noun **1. The quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger, pain, etc., without fear; bravery. 2. Obsolete. The heart as the source of emotion._

She wishes a lot more than she should. Mostly about stupid things, like how she wishes that Harry would be the one kissing her instead of his redheaded best friend. She wishes she could say things that are on her mind.

(I love Harry, Ronald. I have for a while now)

She never does, but sometimes she wishes she would just spit it out already.

(I'm sorry, Ron, really. It's not like I planned this)

She goes to bed most nights with the person she used to think she'd want to spend the rest of her life with's taste on her mouth—Ron substituting as an farcical parable for her soulmate.

Instead of swallowing the knot in her throat and calling him and telling him the truth, though, she curls under the covers and stares at the empty side of her bed.

**Traitor.**

_**noun **1. A person who betrays another, a cause, or any trust. 2. A person who commits treason by betraying his or her people._

She understands Draco now that everything is over. He was given a hard choice to make and he chose the one that saved his skin. Maybe she should be angry like Harry—angry that he would choose evil over death—but she can't actually blame him. She certainly can't understands someone's willingness to die at Voldemort's feet.

What she doesn't understand is basic death eater evil-doings (the ones that aren't committed because you're afraid Voldemort might kill or torture you and your family).

Draco smiles at her one night—sometime after Ron ended things with her with a sigh and an invisible white flag—and she smiled back because it was easier than weighing the pros and cons of such an interaction. They're at the Leaky Cauldron and she can hear Ginny, Ron, Harry and George laughing around her as he slides down to sit beside her. Her eyes fall on his pale fingers, wrapped around the condensation-covered neck of his bottle of firewhisky.

Before she can really figure out what's going on, they're having an actual conversation about life and he isn't calling her names or drawling out his words in a sneering manner.

Later, when Harry is staring down the table at the two of them with narrowed eyes, Draco points it out and gives her a quizzical look. Before he can make any accusations, she rushes to say that nothing is going on between her and Harry and Draco raises his eyebrows like he doesn't believe her.

He _doesn__'__t _believe her.

But he doesn't say it outright.

Instead, he changes the subject and they eventually start talking about when they were children. Then he apologizes, out of nowhere, for all the terrible things he'd said to her over the years while she stares at him in disbelief.

So, that night, she finds out that he's an actual human being.

**Savior.**

_**noun **1. A person who saves, rescues, or delivers. 2. A person who rescues another person or thing from danger or harm._

She moves out of her flat sometime after her 21st birthday. Harry has a spare room now that Ron's moving in with his girlfriend _(1. a frequent or favorite female companion; sweetheart. 2. a female __friend__)._

Harry stands, leaned against the doorframe, with his arms crossed as she unpacks, smiling a little. When she asks him why, he just shrugs and says something along the lines of having missed her a great deal.

The words make her heart soar, but she just smiles back and nods slowly, like it meant a little bit to her, but not a lot (like it actually had).

Later, when he's making dinner in his kitchen and she's looking around the rest of his flat, she discovers a picture of the two of them on his nightstand. The picture versions of them move and adjust as she picks it up and inspects it, surprised to see the fold lines on it. She doesn't even remember when it was taken, but it looks like it was sometime in their fourth year. She figures it must be something Colin took when she wasn't aware of it, because the versions of them in the picture seem oblivious to the fact that it's being taken.

She wonders if the fold lines are from Harry having carried it around in his pocket for a while, and she has to bite her lip to keep from smiling until her lips split. She puts her fingers to the picture frame

(nowhere near the picture version of Harry's face)

and just smiles a little.

The loneliness that's been in her since she moved in by herself dissipates all of the sudden and she struggles to catch her breath. It's like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders, leaving her warm and happy in Harry's bedroom.

She lets herself laugh at how the hole in her chest is suddenly gone.

Harry comes in to tell her dinner's done, then, and he finds her laughing in his bedroom, the picture frame still in her hands. When he asks her why she's laughing, she turns and smiles at him with a shrug.

"I don't know," she says simply and he laughs too.

_fin_


End file.
